Splendid Sorrows
by Kpasa
Summary: Alice and Uncas are given another chance to tear away the masks that determine who they are and discover the reality underneath.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The earth thrummed with the warning of ends arrival, leaving no doubt about it, he was going to die.

Cradled in the womb of this landscapes painted perfection, there was no escape of the harsh reality that engrained itself into his very being. He could vaguely hear, with the utmost certainty, the soft beckoning of the spirits of his ancestors. He would have welcomed it gladly, as warriors often do, if it weren't for the wide eyed gaze of the youngest Munroe daughter. For a brief moment in time, the world ensconced itself in a cacophony of stillness, time slowed imperceptibly, ceasing to exist and dissolving in the confines of its own thread. In the sweetly slow decay of these fossilized seconds emerged the solitary heave of a desolate sigh, intruding the silence of this portrait of ineptitude as the rusty dagger glinted laughingly, a beam of light etched alongside its contours.

A tumble of feet treading softly on scarring stones, silent movement against the worrisome landscape.

His world used to be so simple, untainted by fear or worry, or even love.

'_Love", _is that the word for it? He never fully understood it before, nor did he desire to. It wasn't so very long ago, before she came into his life, that he could foretell his own future, and he embraced it willingly. A hunter by trade, then perhaps fulfill his Mohican duties as a husband and a father. He would have taken pride in accepting the life paved for him by Chingachgook, and would have been honoured in succeeding his family's wishes for his future. Despite the twinge of annoyance he felt at Nathaniel's constant brotherly teasing about marrying a Delaware woman and having her bear him many sons, he knew behind the laughter there was an undercurrent of truth to it. The tender look of contented pride that shone upon his father's face and the bemused questions from Alexandria from the night spent at the Cameron's cabin confirmed it. These were the tasks that he must bear, and this was the life he was to lead. And up until a few days previous, he was more than happy to fulfill it. How could he possible have ever known how quickly his world would come crashing down upon him? That his comfortable existence would be thrust open by a pair of sorrowful eyes that haunted him like no other.

The cold, hard glare of Magua seemed to hypnotize time itself, as each second slowed to a bleeding still.

The length of sky billowed around him as his mind reeled under the impact of Magua's attacks. Teetering on the brink of failure, he was momentarily blinded by the sudden glint of light as the elder warrior unsheathed his knife, the tomahawk forgotten. He could vaguely see Alice move towards him as though in a trance, but swung backwards sharply by the other younger Indian. The other men stood in stoic resoluteness, confident in their leader's abilities. The first cut came quick, a blinding flash of pain that disappeared as quickly as shifting sands. The droplets of blood, like red dewdrops, filtered through his shirt and speckled the green material.

Uncas dropped to his knees, time chained to a standstill as he glanced down at the deep cut that flashed across his vision, ensuing disbelief. In agony he lifted his gaze, only to meet the worried horror etched upon the young girls face. Their stares broke barriers and spoke an ancient knowledge that every lover knew. Vague sentiments fluttering upon a lover's language. For once, they both understood each other clearly, and without thinking Uncas rose to his feet, preparing to throw the last of his strength in honour of Alice Munroe.

He knew his family wouldn't understand why he had sacrificed himself for the girl. They knew how love could change a man in tremendous and passionate ways, as Nathaniel recently discovered, but they would never be able to realize why he chose the youngest Munroe daughter for his devotion, or why she chose him. His people had prided themselves on their strength, admiring all those who possessed it. However from all indications this particular attribute seemed to shine strongly in Cora, whereas her sister seemed to teeter on childlike innocence and a fearful need to escape from reality. Still, Uncas knew better. Dwelled inside the confines of a frightful, perpetually silent girl, there crouched a hidden fire of strength and the blistering embers of an ancient wisdom.

The two struggled under the bowl of an ensconced sky, limbs expertly slashing through the air.

There were no needs for words; a true warrior has never had use for any to taint the art of their stoic strength. Uncas could feel the life draining from his weary body as the elder warrior successfully blocked his attacks and reciprocated twice as much. With a final blow the young Mohican found himself stretched out against an unforgiving landscape, awaiting his last caress of death.

"Uncas!"

The shrill cry broke through the still terrain and shattered the silent reverie in which Uncas found himself in. Magua started in surprise at the interruption of the seemingly mute child and turned his head. Alice wrenched her arm from the young Indian with startling strength and rushed to Uncas' aid. She threw her weight against the warrior but failed to make much movement. Clinging to Magua, she sunk her nails into his weathered skin. With an annoyed sigh, he turned his attention away from Uncas and faced the youngest Munroe daughter. Swiftly grasping the rusty knife that dangled from a leather strap around his thigh, he plunged the dagger into her ribcage. Distracted by this action, he failed to notice the Mohican twist his body to his own advantage and slung Magua's other arm around his shoulder, startling the elder warrior.

His cold, black eyes slowly transformed into fear for the first time since the death of his family, as he realized his disadvantage. Uncas gazed at him with stoic resoluteness, before using the last of his fleeing strength to fling him over the cliff, his body graceful against the remains of the day. A silent breath of wind carried the body to his final point of release. Sweet sorrow was the hawk's shrill cry.

Uncas briefly watched as Magua's body was flung against the sharp stones before gathering the last of his strength to face the other remaining warriors, confident in the knowledge that they would be unwilling to fight if their leader was not there to guide them. Clutching the wound close to his abdomen, he stood up from his crouched position and slowly turned around, gripping the edge of his recovered tomahawk. The first eyes he encountered were those of Alice, recaptured by the livid warrior. Confused disbelief creased her forehead as she gazed at him in innocent askance. A sharp pang of fear shot through his heart as his gut wrenched in dawning realization. His weary body was framed by the still light of day, and the world around him seemed to filter away as the two unassuming lovers were engrained in silent reverie. Uncas was entirely unaware of sudden arrival of Chingachgook and Nathaniel, who immediately set to the task of murdering the other remaining men. The whirl of flashing skins and glinting daggers vaguely entered his conscious, but his gaze was perpetually locked on the bewildered, sad-eyed stare of Alice Munroe. Her hair swept around her child-like face in tangled fury, a solitary braid wrapped around her shoulder. Placing a trembling hand on the stain below her ribcage, she shakily gasped as her pale fingers made contact with the stickiness of blood. Her eyes drifting to the ground, she was unable to hold her balance as her knees gave away and she stumbled forward. Instinctively Uncas swept forward and caught her in his arms, her shaking head resting on his bleeding shoulder. As both of them fell to their knees, his usual mask of stoic hardness transformed into one of fear.

He had never told her how he felt, neither did she. They had their opportunities, of course, but both knew their love could never be realized. Not even under the cascade of the waterfall did they reveal their feelings, but by their trembling bodies and racing heartbeats it wasn't a difficult perception to realize.

Carefully laying her on the ground, Uncas tried to ignore the shudders that rippled through her body as he bent over her, his eyes briefly escaping hers to look at her wound. The fatal wound. Her white hand clutched softly at the crease in the dress where the dagger had passed as he closed his own hand around hers, marvelling at the contrast of their skins which slowly disappeared as red blood seeped through both their bodily particles and entwined them into one.

Moonchild indeed she was, as her skin dropped to tones unrecognizable by human standards. The corner of her dew-kissed mouth etched upwards as she struggled to look at her wound. Alice wanted to weep, but was smiling instead, ensconced in sorrowful ecstasy.

"Oh my…" she softly whispered in a bemused tone, her voice grainy to her ears.

Turning her head away from Uncas, she felt his other arm drape behind her neck as she looked away from his frightened gaze and turned her eyes to the landscape beyond. Painted perfection, indeed. For once in her life she realized that it was she who was the true masterpiece in the landscape of this portrait of magnificence. The blue sky was cut in half by the makeshift horizon that the cliffs induced, calming her like nothing else.

"Alice…" His throaty voice broke through her mind as she marvelled at the rich contouring texture and the rough edges of this hoarsely spoken word.

Smiling in the realization that this was the first time he had spoken her first name, she giggled in a subdued painful struggle.

"You needn't…you needn't worry. I may look weak, but…pardon me… this old bag of bones wouldn't let a silly old man get the best of me…"

Realizing her attempt to lighten the situation had failed by the sharp fear that penetrated his almost black eyes, she smiled softly at him as they fell back into gazing at one another. Alice felt the almost unnoticeable trembling produced by Uncas as she cupped a pale hand to the hardened edges of his warrior's face.

"Alice!"

Sighing at the unexpected interruption, Alice returned her gaze back to the ocean of sky as Cora appeared from the seemingly out of nowhere and was rushing to their side. Her skirt swung past Uncas as she knelt down to her sister to view the damage done. Impatiently shoving away the hand of the young Mohican, she fervently went to work on trying to control the bleeding. Uncas felt the rough hand of his father envelop his bleeding shoulder as Nathaniel, his shirt stained with the enemy's blood, crouched down beside Cora. Chingachgook gazed tenderly upon the young girl before looking at his son, finally realizing the extent of the feelings that he had previously ignored. Hawkeye grinded his teeth as he briefly scanned the wound that had targeted Alice. He looked at the woman who had fallen in love with, trusting her with her medical knowledge. He placed a firm hand on Cora's shoulder, which was trembling with fear.

"Will she live?"

Cora ignored the tears spilling onto her cheeks as she tried to place pressure on the gaping knife-wound

"We need to bring her someplace warm, or perhaps to a real doctor before I can answer that question."

Nathaniel firmly nodded in understanding, before sliding his arms underneath Alice' knees and neck, staring up in surprise as a brown hand stopped his motions. Uncas looked at him with a calm, almost deadly determination.

"I will carry her."

Nathaniel slowly removed his arms from the young girl, staring at his brother in a new and questioning light. Uncas, his returning strength gathering into this one act, draped Alice across his muscled arms and let her head lie in the crook is his upper arm. Cora watched in alarm.

"Be careful! You mustn't tear the wound any further".

He nodded and motioned for his father to lead the way, his face returning yet again to the stoic resoluteness that seemed to define him. The shrill cries from a nearby hawk forewarned their dangers untold, and the sun blinked in a glare as the five bodies continued on, always moving forward.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The shrill cries of the lonesome hawk were consumed by the deadly atmosphere that the gothic woods displayed, the cliffs gazing mournfully at the four departing survivors, and the limp body of the child who escaped their fatal clutches. The air hung thick, motionless and basking in its stale reveries of the previous aftermath. The seduction of the afternoon beckoned to the decrepit stench of the morning as one soulfully passed the crown to the other.

'_Run Alice…'_

Shadows and light danced upon her pale face as the rays of the hidden sun fluttered upon her eyelashes. The canopy of leaves cocooned them in its fierce embrace, tucking them into the foliage. The darkened gloom of the woods ignored the constant disturbance by the glint of brightness, clawing against her brown hair and sweetly blowing golden, honeyed kisses in the strands.

The only feeling that she could comprehend was the fire. The heat consumed her mind to the point of numbness, but even in her dying state she could touch the earth with her soul. Her body trembled imperceptibly as the pool of fire rooted itself under her ribcage and with branch-like strategy wove its veins through each limb.

Five figures dancing between the spaces of half-consumed leaves, their silhouettes stealing away with every blink.

She vaguely felt the sinuous strength of the arms that held her, the wiry roots of limbs that, like the ancient trees that surrounded them, wholly knew its purpose. With a rhythmic faerie dance, glass-like droplets of blood began delicately pouncing on her fragile snow-white skin from its roost above her, its icy cloak shattering upon contact. Red paint on white canvas.

The furious ebbing in her fragile mind served no purpose but to mock her yet again. She could feel the venomous tongue slithering in a laughing fashion, teasing her for her frailty and her perpetually frightened state. She bit back; fear no longer consumed her as it had done before. A queer, calm state began to weave its thread into each agonized particle, descending as though Poseidon himself shattered her internal prison as crown-capped mares stormed in his wake. The princess awakened from her veil of glass, the frost of her eyes un-cloaking new days, precious suns.

Cora was the only one that seemed to make noise upon the crackle of decayed leaves, as the others walked as though they were inches above the soil, deft in their cautious swiftness.

Hawkeye suddenly swung up his callous hand, silencing the group and enforcing an almost comical still-like swiftness. The world hung in a suspended state of awareness; the birds chirping in the wood, the hairs on their arms tickling their senses, the breath of everlasting life throughout the sleepy forest. Cocking his rifle, he spared a long look with the crouched Chingachgook, his hand deftly reaching for his dagger. Agonizing seconds ticked by, the stillness of the earth engraved in each passing sense. With a furious clatter and a great rustle of the branches, an elk leapt from its crouching stance and jumped wildly into the forest, inciting a grim smile from the two men and a nervous sigh from Cora. Uncas loosened his deadly grip around Alice, and spared a glance at her sleeping form. Startled at the sight of his blood from his wound dripping onto her pale figure, he spared a thumb to swipe it away, red streaks smearing the whiteness of her breast. Jaw clenched, he surrendered to his failure, and would not look at her again.

'_Mother…'_

In the gentle swaying of her body, she broke loose. Her soul calmly stilled by the ticking of droplets, she felt herself falling… falling.

In England, everything was safe. Everything. Family, friends, people, places, they were all safe. If she was uncomfortable with a situation she could merely write it off for reasons of "propriety". In this strange new place there were no gilded bars she could hide behind when confronted with unrecognizable emotions. In England, she needn't have to worry about anything. She had blanketed herself with an illusion that she was happy, and it was a mask of comfort that she found herself missing in the New World. Back home, she loved nothing more that to fade into the wallpaper, ensconced in patterns that became her cage. She was the perpetual wallflower, content to watch as life swept by, in grandeur unbecoming of her. A vague sentiment only occasionally remembered.

Tucked away in her room, her pale, long fingers stained by ink and her nails brittle by the feathers, she drowned herself in legends and tales that dwelt in the labyrinths of her imagination. At society balls, dancing the night away, she lost herself in a sea of whirling skirts of robes Anglaises, candles and jewels glinting in every turn of the eye. Or trapping herself in her garden on the estates of the Munroe Manor, rooting her mind in decisions on wildflowers and pale petals. Trying to pretend her mother wasn't dead. She was escaping the reality that the most beautiful thing in her life had escaped its chains. The only person that kept her free had abandoned her to a world of cynical societies, false beauty and bartered daughters.

_Grey clouds encroached on the landscape with the groaning weariness of a thousand elephants, invisible wheels grating against their aching joints. _

_The tall grass shifted with sultry laughter, whispering playfully to the sand billowing against their borders. Northern stranded. _

_She loved the feel of her light hair whipping angrily against her face, clinging on for fear of wind's madness. Her pale brown eyes peeking from veiled lids. The hem of her petticoat unhappily drenched to the brim by the coarse, grim sea. The sand particles happily set about staining her long abandoned shoes. _

**"Are you sure the Hurons won't come after us?"**

_Laughter, the consequence of love, reverberated into her senses. Sweet Lilias Munroe, the untamed jewel of England, the rhapsody of her uncontrolled joy transforming her very being. Her bodice, stays and one single stocking abandoned before they had even reached the tall grasses. The footprints in the dark beach swirled away in the wind's ferocity. _

**"Father, do you remember who lives west of the river? Are they trust worthy?"**

_The stockings of Alice's legs turned into folded knees, tucked tightly into her body, her chin wearily resting on the dagger-like bones of her knee. She was always content to gaze at the fae-like movements of her mother. As a desert-drifter becomes captivated into stillness by the sight of water, Alice was quelled into silence by the sight of beauty. It was the icy, calm stillness between hunter and doe, and just as in much danger of breaking. _

**"Will they help us?"**

_The cadence of the waves danced against pale feet, sand and water swept away in fiery motions. Sea water gyrating into infinite sand. Unblinking in the crash of every beat, Lilias surrendered her body to the rhythm. Her shift whipped furiously against her calves, surrendering to the roar of the wind. As much as Alice liked to study the silver swallows stitched to the edges of the rise of the waves, she much preferred to watch her mother. There was beauty in it all. The wild, unkempt black hair bound up by a white stocking, her bare arms escaped of its captor, the stinging droplets of sea-water shooting spitefully against her pale face. There was beauty in her freedom, passion in the nightingale free from its cage, even merely for a day. _

**"Go, Nathaniel, go to them".**

_Laughter… Oh god… there was laughter… Mother…_

_Trying to catch every glass droplet flung by the spray of the roaring waves, she threw her long arms in utter euphoria. Turning, slowly turning upon the realization that she was sharing this moment…_

_Her dark, laughing eyes met the wide, quiet eyes of her child across an eternity of sand; love linking the two. _

**"Lay her down there Uncas, Nathaniel, find me some brandy.**

_Though Cora Munroe was certainly her mother's daughter, she could never understand this moment, this break of reality. The girl was in Austria at this time, cheeky as ever. Cora could never lose herself in the mere beauty of the moment. She was much like her father in that aspect, inheriting his defiant Scottish ways in her manners of control and leadership, in her strength. Alice was destined to carry the burden of watcher. She was the perpetual gatekeeper between reality and… stillness. The very millisecond when one loses oneself to the mere aspect of life, stilling ones soul. _

She would never let herself forget that day, that freedom. The warm love shining in her mother's eyes, England in its raw beauty, the feeling of being rocked by warm waves of perpetual and unconditional love. It was the anchor that chained her to this world. After Lilias passed, she was cut loose. Lost in a sea with air that was not her own. As though she was floating in a world that was not meant for her quiet breath.

Cora's voice, why does she keep talking?

In this strange new world, deprived of the ivy that shielded her eyes before, she nearly completely lost herself. If it weren't for those dark eyes of a stoic young man that shone like a beacon in the distracting, confusion whirls of her own fear, she would have fallen into that void. A dark, penetrating gaze. Eye's like her mothers, anchoring her back to herself.

Fleeting does the heron fly, life and death weighing on its wings.

Voices fluttering in the distance, the heron extends its claws and pulls her back.

TBC.

* * *

I have to add that a large part of the ocean scene was inspired by the song Albatross, by Judy Collins (the lyrics of which I always associated with Alice Munroe, for different reasons).

As always, reviews are very much loved and appreciated, :)


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